


Damon's Story

by lovingthealien



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11409105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingthealien/pseuds/lovingthealien
Summary: Damon never fit in. In fact, not only did he not fit in, he stuck out in his own ways. People didn't understand him. People thought he was antisocial, some people called him a freak, and many have gone as far as calling him a psychopath.He never cared though. Damon had lived in his own world his whole life, and the only connection he had with anything was his tie to real life- school and work. But it ended there. He never hung out with friends, and his parents were concerned at his lack of hobbies and interests. But that's because nobody understood his interests.That is until, one day he meets Thomas, another weirdo at his school. Thomas seemed to understand. Together, they  can finally be themselves. That's why, when an incident ends up seperating the two, each of them go to the furthest extreme to get the other back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING:  
> This story contains graphic descriptions of self-harm and sexual content. There is also strong language. Reader discretion is advised.
> 
> CATEGORY:  
> This is a work of realistic fiction. Events are not based off of real life occurrences, and all characters are either original or based off of fictional characters from other works. I do not own said characters.

Introduction

CHARACTERS:  
Damon A. Watson- Curly, short brown hair. Brown eyes. Average build, around 5'8. Very unpopular, dificulty in social situations.  
George P. Hamley- Short blonde hair, bright blue eyes. Well-built, around 6'2. Football player, popular.  
Thomas J. Newton- Copper hair, straight and somewhat short. Blue eyes. Thin build, around 5'11. Noticeably pale complexion. An outcast, not bullied often.

LOCATION:  
Gregory the Great Academy, Elmhurst Township, Pennsylvania

\---

Chapter One

It was a rainy night, and Damon sat in his dorm typing away at his laptop, trying to finish an English essay in time for tomorrow. It was nearing 11 pm, and even the two cans of Red Bull he drank were failing to keep his eyelids from slowly getting heavier. Then the door opened, and in came George, Damon's over-energetic roommate who always managed to function on two hours of sleep.

'Watcha workin' on?' He asked, his voice disrupting the quiet that Damon had been basking in.

'Just an essay, be quiet'

And that was the end of a typical conversation between the two. George had tried, over the past three months, to get Damon to say more than a sentence, but he had failed over and over. Everyone knew there was something wrong with Damon, socially at least. But George wasn't one to judge. And although their conversations were pointless, George had been the only one in all of Gregory the Great Academy to tolerate him.

Finally, 1 am rolled around and Damon's essay had reached an end. He stood up from his desk and began to undo his tie, which he hadn't had time to do before. George was already in his PJ's, but as usual, was texting on his phone. Damon wondered if he ever slept.

Gregory the Great Academy is an all-boy's Catholic boarding school, which meant it was strict. His parents sent him here in hopes of getting him to be more social, to find at least one friend. For now, his parent's goals had been failing, but Damon could care less. All he wanted now was a decent amount of sleep.

Just as Damon was about to drift into the world of dreams where he finally felt free from the world's expectations, his phone buzzed. The screen lit up, and instantly Damon was brought back to reality. 'What could anyone want at this hour?' he mumbled as he blindly searched for his phone, not making an effort to lift his head off the perfectly comfortable spot on his pillow. He opened a message from an unknown number.

It read:  
Hey Damon

Damon had to reread the message a few times. Then he had to think. Did he give anyone his number? He knew that wasn't true, he never talked to anyone. Who the hell could this be?

He replied:  
Who is this?

There was no reply for five minutes, so Damon decided to just ignore it and go back to bed. Just as he shifted himself into his covers and once again closed his eyes, the buzzing came around again. 'Who the fuck-' Damon yelled, realizing it had come out louder than he'd hoped. Luckily, George had his earphones in and was intently watching something on his phone screen, completely unaware of the world around him.

One new message:  
That's not important. The real question is, can you help me?

This was not something Damon wanted in his life. A stalker or a creeper or whatever this was, he wanted no part of it. So he ignored the conversation and finally fell asleep.

\---

The next morning was rough. At least for Damon, it was. If someone could win a world record for least amount of sleep, it would be George Hamley. Nevertheless, Damon continued his normal morning routine, gathering his books and putting on his uniform. It wasn't until he was in the cafeteria getting a bowl of cereal that he remembered the text messages from last night.

That's not important. The real question is, can you help me?

He had to admit, it freaked him out a little. It was probably just a prank, but Damon couldn't help but wonder. He took out his phone. How does one reply to such a question? Help them with what?

He typed:  
Depends. First tell me who you are.

A simple reply, but hopefully effective. He wondered if he should write more but decided to put his phone down and begin breakfast instead.

A reply came through:  
I will soon, I promise. I don't like your answer though.

What the hell does that mean? Damon almost felt threatened.

He replied:  
What are you gonna do about it?

A reply came through fast:  
Please. Just say yes.

Now Damon was lost. He wanted to see where this would go. Most of all, he wanted to know who this was. So like any naive teenager, he answered:  
Fine.

There was a minute before a reply came in.

It read:  
Wow, you were easy. I like you.

Now Damon was completely confused. He was... easy? He wanted to reply, but simply couldn't come up with anything to answer. His cereal has become soggy, but at this point he didn't really care. He'd lost his appetite and remembered he still had to print out his English essay before getting to class.


	2. Chapter 2

First period was treacherous. Damon couldn't help but wonder what all these texts were about. He looked around the room, as if perhaps the messenger was somewhere in there, wearing a sign that says 'It's me!' He simply couldn't get his mind off it. The worst was that there wasn't anybody he could talk to. He wasn't going to bring it up to a teacher, that's just embarrassing. For the first time probably ever, Damon realized he needed a friend.

The bell finally rang and students piled out of the door, Damon staying back to wait until the crowd vanished. He then quickly shuffled to the bathroom, where he took out his phone.

A new message read:  
You've got nothing else to say? Interesting. Why don't we meet up today, 6 pm in the school library's bathroom.

Okay, Damon thought, that's a pretty safe location. If this kid was a murderer, they surely wouldn't have picked a place like this.

He typed:  
What if I don't want to?

A quick response:  
It wasn't a question.

And it ended there. Damon didn't realize it yet, but this person, whoever they are, had practically owned him. Maybe Damon had done it out of curiosity, or maybe it was because he was desperate to help, to perhaps make a friend. He wasn't really sure which.

\---

The rest of the school day cruised by at it's normal pace, which meant very, very slowly. The fear of meeting the messenger only grew exponentially throughout the day. During lunch, Damon decided to send a message.

He sent:  
I'm scared to meet you. Just to let you know.

As soon as he sent it, he wanted to delete it. He didn't know why he sent it. Telling someone you're afraid of them isn't exactly how you get them on your side. He then put his phone away for good, deciding he should try to get through the last three periods without any distractions.  
Finally, the last period bell rang and Damon began making his way to his room quickly. He didn't really know what to do up until six. He sat down on his bed and took out his phone.

A new message read:  
Why?

He replied:  
Idk, you seem pretty weird. Do you even go to this school?

A reply:  
Yes.

Damon couldn't complain. It was the only direct answer he's gotten, so he was satisfied.

He typed:  
Why can't you just text me who you are and what you want?

A reply:  
Because that's boring. Besides, it's about time you stepped out of your comfort zone. You don't like people, is that right?

Now Damon was truly scared. This person not only knew his name, but it seemed they knew pretty much everything else about him too. He lied down on his bed, allowing his phone to rest on his chest. Then he texted back.

He wrote:  
Yeah. Seems you already know a lot about me. Why do you care anyways?

A reply:  
Because you're different, and you're perfect for this.

Damon replied:  
Perfect for what?

The reply read:  
For helping me.

Again with the help thing. Damon didn't understand it, but it didn't seem like he was going to get much out of the conversation. So he left the stranger on read and began to do his homework. George then came in, his tie already undone. He plopped onto his bed and took out his phone. Damon then decided that perhaps George was the only person he should ask about the texts.  
'Hey, George?'

'Yeah?' he said, almost shocked at the fact that Damon was starting a conversation for probably the first time in his life.

'Have you gotten any weird text messages recently?'

'No, why?'

Damon just replied with a half-grunt noise, and this indicated the end of their conversation. Still, George was impressed at how far it got.


	3. Chapter 3

It was finally time. Damon paced at the back of the library, near the historical novels, trying to play out a scenario in his head. What would he say? Who is this person? What did they want? Are they dangerous? He felt a sense of fear, but at the same time excitement. This was technically the first time he's made plans with anyone except for that one time he had to work on a science project with a classmate.

He then pulled out a book and sat down, trying to act normal. Then, someone sat across from him. They had a hood pulled over their head, wearing something which was clearly out of uniform.

'Damon?'

Damon didn't even notice the stranger take a seat, so he was startled.

'What? Yes? Oh, hello'

The stranger then pulled off his hood, revealing a mass of red hair, which was somewhat orange at the front and then fading into darker red in the back. His eyes were blue, although one eye seemed somewhat darker than the other. He was also incredibly thin, his cheekbones protruding over his pale complexion. He extended his bony fingers towards him.

'Hi, I'm Thomas Newton'

Damon was a little confused. Was that really that hard to say over a text message?

'Well, you already know my name, so what did you want?'

'Okay, I know this is all a little weird. There's a reason I decided to come to you. I have a problem. The reason I came to you is because you're different. You don't talk to people, and you have practically no connections. But you don't seem upset about that at all. Most people are heartbroken if they can't make friends. I bet you've been told countless times your guidance counselors, teachers and parents to make connections, but you don't. You live life how you want it, and that's why I'm jealous of you. You're free.'

Damon didn't know what to say. He's never though about his life like this. Some stranger comes over and tells you they're jealous of you because... you don't have friends? But, this entire situation was already so weird, so he knew he should've expected this.

'Ummm' was all Damon could reply.

Thomas appeared nervous, fidgeting his fingers. He noticed how confused Damon was.

'Listen, I know this makes no sense. You probably see me as some creep, texting you and then telling you to meet me here. But this is important.'

'Okay...'

'Can you be my friend?'

Now Damon was startled. Is this all Thomas wanted? Bringing him out here, scaring him so many times, sending him strange text messages, just to become... friends?

'I know this isn't normal. Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing. I just thought there was something about you... that... well, that drew me to you.'

Damon looked down at his book, then around the room, and then faced Thomas.

'Yeah, let's be friends, why not?'

The entire atmosphere changed after he said this. The previously mysterious and somewhat scary appearance of Thomas turned into a friendly one. A smile spread across his face, and Damon was suddenly overwhelmed. He finally had a friend. A weird one, sure, but it was enough to bring a smile to his face.

\---

Damon sat in bed that night still trying to replay the entire situation. None of it really made sense, this was definitely something he hadn't experienced before. But, Damon had to admit he kinda liked it. He liked the whole mystery side to it, as though something exciting was finally happening. He had to admit to himself that he really liked Thomas too. He wasn't like the others- boring and straightforward. No, he had created an entire scheme- just to get to know him.  
The next morning, Damon checked his phone. He and Thomas had planned to hangout after school somehow, although they hadn't agreed on any details.

A message from Thomas was already sent:  
Do you wanna just come over to my dorm? I don't really want to go out. I can order pizza to, if you want.

He replied quickly:  
Okay, sounds good. And hell yeah I want pizza!

Damon smiled to himself after sending the message. It only began to hit him what a major part he had been missing out on. Having a friend changed something, and he wasn't sure yet what it was, but he felt it. Something about having someone to text other than your parents was just special.

Another long school day passed as Damon sat in class doodling along at the sides of his notes. The phrase 'your homework for tonight is...' couldn't have been said more times than it was at Gregory the Great Academy. However, Damon had something else to look forward to besides homework after class, and that motivated him to stay somewhat awake through long period history.

As the final bell rang, Damon found himself among the herd that pushed through the door like a flood. He walked quickly over to his dorm to change before heading over to Thomas'. He burst into his room with a huge smile on his face. George was shocked as he walked in.

'Are you going on a date or something?' he asked, though he wasn't really expecting an answer.

'No, just going to a friend's'

At this, George almost fell over.

'Wha... you have a friend? I mean, don't take that the wrong way, it's just I don't think I've ever seen you outside our dorm before'

Damon chuckled.

'I just met him actually. His name's Thomas, Thomas Newton'

George's expression changed at the mention of his name.

'Oh, yeah, I know him. He's a bit... strange, very reserved. A bit like yourself, actually. Once again, don't take that the wrong way. I actually think you'll get along well with him anyway'

To that Damon replied with a half nod, as he jumped into the bathroom with a t-shirt and jeans. He took off his tie, and put on his wooden, multi-colored beaded necklace and black beanie, completing his usual appearance. One quick look in the mirror and he was on his way to Thomas' in no time.

Damon hadn't realized that it had begun raining, and wasn't really sure when because he found himself soaking at Thomas' door. He knocked on it a few times, and when their wasn't a reply, took out his phone.

There was a message:  
Hey, I'm still getting the pizza, might be a bit late.

Great, was all Damon could think to himself. Now he was out here, soaking. He found shelter under a tree and decided to sit and wait. Suddenly, he could make out Thomas' distinct figure walking up the sidewalk, trying to protect the surface of a pizza box with his chest.  
Damon quickly jogged over to him, taking the box from him as he began to open his dorm. Damon had not expected to see such a mess as he came in.

'Wow, I mean, no offense, but doesn't your roommate care?' He said, marveling the huge pile of dirty clothes which seemed almost at his height.

'Nah, he's actually hardly ever here. Don't ask, cause I have no idea where he spends his time, but he usually doesn't get here until 10 and is gone as soon as the sun rises.'

Damon continued to observe the crowded room. He noticed three guitars which Thomas had somehow managed to cram into the small quarters.

'You play?' he asked, pointing at a 12-string acoustic sitting in the corner.

'Yeah, yet another benefit of having a roommate who is usually absent' he said, smirking.

Thomas walked up to his desk and practically threw aside any textbooks and papers that covered its surface, sending them flying across the floor. He then spread out the pizza box.

'There are paper towels in the bathroom if we need them. Other than that, dig in.'

Damon wasted no time. The two boys took on the small pizza, and it had evaporated into the air in no time. Damon had begun to get comfortable. He had almost forgotten about the strange situation in which they had met, treating Thomas like a normal kid. That is, until Thomas' next sentence.

'What do you think of death?' he asked, as though it was a common and completely normal question to ask someone who he had just met a little over 24-hours ago.

Damon almost froze entirely, the pizza he was chewing suddenly growing cold in his mouth.

'Umm... well... I, uh, never really thought about it- why are you asking this?'

The fear in Damon's voice began to rise as his voice cracked at his last words.  
'Cause if we're gonna be friends, you have to know one thing, and it's that I find death fascinating. Like, one moment, a person's alive. They had their own thoughts, feelings, opinions. Just by living, they are somehow making an impact in the world. But then, suddenly, that all ends. How does it even end, is what I wonder. Like, why do we have a limited amount of time?'

Damon stared at him, his mouth wide open. He didn't even know where to start.

'You're fucking weird, man' he started. But then he continued. 'You make a point though. Why does it all end? I'm not gonna lie, that's kinda messed up.. but at the same time, wow'

Thomas smiled, and it was a somewhat friendly smile. Not the creepy smile that Damon would've expected from someone who spent so much time pondering death.

'Glad to know you're okay with it. Most people aren't' he said.

There was an awkward pause after that, and none of the boys made eye contact as they continued to munch on their pizza.

'Most people aren't okay with me for a lot of reasons, though' started Thomas again.

Once again, Damon felt the cold enter the room. It was as though Thomas had two sides- he could either make you feel like he was just a normal kid, eating pizza in his messy dorm room on a school night, but then he could drop the temperature twenty degrees with just one sentence. Damon wasn't sure how he felt about that. He couldn't say he didn't like it though-that would've been a lie. All he knew was that Thomas was not a normal kid and that this 'friendship', or whatever it was, would not be normal, either.

'What... what do you mean?' he asked, this time, with less fear than before.

'Well, I've already told you about myself, why don't I ask you a question instead?' he said, and without giving Damon time to reply, began. 'Why don't you talk to people? I don't just mean you're anti-social. You're like a different species, you won't even make eye contact with people. But now that I'm in here, you actually seem like a normal kid. What's that all about?'

Damon had heard this one before. With his parents, especially. Numerous times at the dinner table this exact question would rise. 'Why don't you talk to people? Did you make any friends? Why don't you invite someone over?' Damon paused before answering.

'Truth is, I find people boring. They're all the same. But you, no. You texted me anonymously asking to meet me in a library. It almost sounds like a serial killer move. Nobody does that, and that's why I obeyed. Just like you think I'm different, I find you equally... fascinating'

It turns out George was right. Both these boys were very alike. To the rest of the world, people would say there is something wrong with them. One who found everyone he met boring, and the other with an obsession for death. George was right about another thing though, and that was that the two of them would get along very well indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

It didn't take long for Damon and Thomas' friendship to become the subject of everyone's conversation. The fact that Damon had finally made a friend was huge, but people were generally surprised about Thomas too. For one, he had changed a lot since he met Damon. It was obvious he was becoming open, but this scared people. They didn't like the real Thomas, the one outside of the school band who typically hung out with the normal kids. George seemed to be the only boy in the entire school who remained neutral to the whole situation, in a way almost happy that Damon has been spending less time in the dorm.

\---

Two weeks had passed since Damon and Thomas met, and they had been practically inseparable. Which is why when Thomas didn’t show up to science first period, Damon became worried.

He sent him a text:  
Dude, where are you?

He waited five minutes, but there was still no reply. So he decided to text again:  
Don’t leave me alone in physics this class sucks ass.

Another long five minutes passed, and the conversation remained unchanged. Then the teacher’s phone rang. Damon could hear the office lady’s voice, although he wasn’t sure what she said. His teacher made eye contact with him, and he had a feeling it had to do with him. A chill passed through his spine as all his speculations were confirmed when Mrs. Hemmer looked at him and said, 

‘Damon, please go down to the office, Brother William would like to speak with you.’

His reaction was delayed as he felt everyone’s gaze turn to him. He felt frozen, but eventually unglued himself from the seat and made his way down the hall.

Brother William was waiting at the door as he came in.

‘Hello, Damon. Please take a seat.’

Damon didn’t say a word. He sat down, finding the chair a lot harder than it looked. He felt sweat form at the back of his neck when he saw Brother William close the door. He knew he didn’t do anything wrong, but something about the situation stressed him out deeply.

‘So, Damon, I hear you are good friends with Thomas Newton. Is this true?’

Things were slowly coming together. Or so Damon thought. Why was Brother William asking this? And where the hell was Thomas anyways?

‘Yes, sir, you could say we are well acquainted.’ 

Damon hadn't realized how stupid his attempt at using bigger words was up until he said it out loud. Not doing that again, he thought to himself.

‘So you are probably aware that he isn’t in his classes today. As his friend, I thought you’d need to know this... Thomas is in the hospital. He was sent there last night.’

The news hit Damon hard. The hospital? When did this happen? How? Questions flooded his brain immediately, at a rate so fast he couldn’t keep up with himself.

‘I know you probably have a lot of questions. I am willing to take you to visit him today, if you are okay with missing your classes. Now, tell me, have you met his parents?’

Damon gently shook his head no. Everything else Brother William said floated over him, he was only partially tuned into the conversation. He was more concentrated on figuring out how an ambulance had arrived to the school without anyone talking about it the next morning. At a school like this, an ambulance in the middle of the night would’ve stirred up a lot of talk. 

\---

The entire ride there was a blur. Damon was still trying to get a grip on what happened, and how Thomas had ended up at the hospital. Damon wanted answers, but Brother William only knew as much as he had already told him. The car ride was silent.

Damon entered the plain white building and was hit with the hard smell of hand sanitizer. Brother William walked Damon up to the front desk, and after they exchanged some words, a tall, dark haired nurse named either Amelia took him to another white room with a few chairs. In the corner of the room sat a woman, who was around middle-aged, and whose eyes were dull from lack of sleep. She looked up as the nurse entered the room.

‘Ah, yes, you must be Damon,’ she said, her voice shaky. ‘I’m Mrs. Newton, pleased to meet you.’

She barely managed to make out the last words before she broke down in tears. Damon was confused. 

‘I’m sorry, it’s just that-’ she couldn’t finish her sentence, and then the nurse escorted her out of the room.

Damon was stranded in what seemed to be the most boring room ever. He picked up a few magazines, unsure if he should try to find someone or not. He began to fidget nervously, since Mrs. Newton’s appearance frightened him. Not many things in this world did, but he could tell that whatever happened to Thomas was serious. It didn’t matter that they had only been friends for a few weeks. Damon cared. For the first time in his life, he cared.


	5. Chapter 5

A few minutes after the Mrs. Newton episode, a man with a tie entered the room. 

‘Are you Thomas Newton’s visitor?’ he asked, his tone formal and somewhat scary.

‘Yes, I was waiting to meet Mrs. Newton, but then she left and now I-’ before he could finish, the man interrupted with his deep voice, ‘Please follow me.’

Once again Damon found himself nervously fidgeting as he sat down in yet another office. This day was quite the rollercoaster.

‘Damon, is it? I’m Dr. Pallaboro, and I was attending your friend last night. He was here because of an attempted suicide. Did you know of any strange behavior from Thomas yesterday?’

Damon couldn’t even get a sound out of his mouth, it came out as more of a puff of air. His whole head went light and his vision blurry. He felt as though he was becoming paralyzed.

‘A... a... suicide attempt?’ he stuttered, trying to focus on Dr. Pallaboro’s stern face.

‘Yes, a very tragic episode. I’m very sorry about all of this, I just need you to tell me, did you notice anything? Did anything happen? Thomas Newton has depression, and he’s been monitored for quite some time, but none of his teachers or friends claim of any disturbing events. We were hoping you would know something?’

Damon was almost angry. He didn’t know Thomas had depression, and now this doctor was demanding all this information from him. He didn’t even know Thomas was in the hospital until this morning, and all of this angered him. Nobody told him anything, how was he supposed to know? All of his anger, however, diminished as his gaze met the impassive expression of Dr. Pallaboro and he answered with a weak ‘no.’

\---

Damon entered Thomas’s room at the brink of crying. Never before has he felt this way, so torn apart all in one day. The whole day, in fact, must have just been some very realistic nightmare, Damon had told himself. But soon, he discovered, it was as real as could get. He saw Thomas’s thin figure covered under the white sheets. Several wires hung in all directions, and his hands, which remained above the covers, had been wrapped at the wrists. He was asleep, and everything was completely silent except for a faint beep.

‘I’ll leave you here with him, if you want to stay. I know he’s asleep, but you can stay if you want,’ said Amelia, with nothing but sincere pity illuminating from her big eyes.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Damon said, at a level quieter than a whisper. 

Amelia must’ve somehow heard it though, because a few seconds later the light shut of a door disturbed the complete silence. Now Damon was alone in the room with Thomas. He watched as his friend’s body moved up and down under the covers. His appearance was entirely peaceful, but his physical form was not. The wires and wrapping on his body ruined the tranquility. Damon couldn’t hold it in. Soon, a river flowed out of both his eyes, though he cried silently so that he wouldn’t wake his friend.

Damon’s parents picked him up from the hospital later that day. He couldn’t remember much, his mother hugged him, then they were in the car, his dad was saying something about how sorry he was, and then he was in his own bed at home. The last thought he had before going to sleep is how far away he was from Thomas, and how badly he wanted to be at his side right now.


	6. Chapter 6

The next week, Thomas was admitted into a psychiatric ward some distance from Elmhurst, completely isolated from the outside world. He would be staying there for three weeks, and those three weeks would be the longest three weeks of Damon’s life. Thomas’ parents insisted on keeping communication to a strict limit, so Damon was only allowed to call Thomas for half an hour every day at 5:00. Damon waited patiently every day for when the clock hit 5. He hated it, in all honestly. The restriction made him feel like he had no freedom, like a bird whose had it’s wings suddenly clipped off. It was awful, and Damon felt, for the first time, himself missing someone terribly. It got to the point where he almost regretted making a friend. Does all friendship have this much pain? 

Five o’clock rolled around on a cloudy Wednesday, the sixth day out of twenty-one that Thomas would be in the ward. 

‘Hey,’ started Thomas.

Ever since the incident, a different tone had entered Thomas’ usual smooth, deep voice. It was almost sad, but more frustrated.

‘Hey, Thomas. How are you?’ asked Damon, hoping his question wasn’t predictable or boring. 

He felt it was, but he needed to know. He needed Thomas to come back. 

‘Damon, I sent you a letter. Promise me you’ll read it, okay?’ said Thomas, hastily.

‘Yeah, of course I’ll read it, but why a letter?’ asked Damon.

‘People listen to your conversations. I don’t need random people to listen to everything I have to say.’ 

It was a simple, almost blunt, tone. It was very Thomas, though, and Damon couldn’t help but smile on the other end of the phone.

‘Okay. How are things looking over there?’ asked Damon, once again feeling corny.

‘Damon, trust me, everything is fine. I know this all looks bad, just... trust me, okay?’ Thomas once again sounded nervous. Now Damon was getting anxious. Thomas was always a little strange, but this was pushing the boundaries.

‘Thomas, what the hell is going on?’ asked Damon, perhaps a little too harshly.

Damon heard a sigh, then a pause.

‘Just read the letter, okay?’ Then the call ended.

Damon looked at his phone. The call lasted 2:46. Two minutes out of thirty? Now Damon was mad. That letter better come soon. 

Luckily for Damon, the letter did come soon. It was a plain white envelope, and its boring appearance reminded him of how boring the psychiatric ward must be for Thomas. 

He opened the envelope, and the letter was a white sheet of paper with a small paragraph at the top right corner. 

It read:  
Damon,

Listen, it wasn’t a real suicide attempt. Okay? I know what everyone’s saying. I know this is a far-fetched. But please, trust me. I’ll be back soon.

Thomas

Damon read it three times. Maybe even four. He couldn’t get the phrase out of his head. It wasn’t a real suicide attempt. Then what the hell was it? He folded up the letter and hid it under the pillow. The last thing Damon could think of was the words ‘trust me’ said in Thomas’ desperate voice hundreds of miles away.

The next few weeks continued in a similar way. Thomas was behaving strange, but it was Thomas after all, so to Damon it was normal. But Damon knew something was different. After Thomas asked him not to talk about the letter, he obeyed, and didn’t ask about it. He was just waiting till Thomas got back so everything could be clear again. Just like it used to be.

Damon sat in English class, stating out the windows on a sunny Thursday afternoon. One of the worst parts of not having Damon around was trying to survive English class alone. Another terrible thing was how hard the teachers pretended to care about what happened to Thomas and how Damon was doing. The teachers were all aware of how close they had become over those past weeks, almost as though they had been friends their entire life. Damon knew they were probably forced to care, and that neither of them would’ve actually cared if Thomas did actually die. Damon was lost in thoughts thinking about what would happen if Thomas had actually died. He didn’t even notice that he teared up and was leaving to go to the bathroom in a rush.

The ground was hard and somewhat sticky, which was, of course, disgusting, but Damon didn’t care. He locked himself in a stall and sat down, the back of his jacket dragging along the repugnant floor, probably picking up thousands of different species of bacteria. He face was buried deep into his elbow, his sobs audible, but unheard since no one else was in the bathroom. The reality of the whole situation hadn’t really hit Damon until this moment, and suddenly his memory was caught in a loop of the moment he walked into the hospital room and saw Thomas lying there. The bandages around his wrists, the strange beeping of machines working hard to keep his frail body alive, his parents, hugging each other in the guest room, each completely shocked about the situation. They too didn’t understand the magnitude of the situation either. Damon couldn’t even understand how they felt. But the worst was that Thomas wasn’t admitting it was a suicide attempt. Damon’s heard it several times before: the first step is to admit you have a problem. Thomas was there for two weeks ago, yet he still insisted that everything he believes is on that letter. Damon pulled the letter out from his coat pocket. Ever since he’s read it, the letter hadn’t left his side. He even began taking shorter showers just so he could keep an eye on it. 

Everything changed suddenly, however. Damon stood up, and with another tear flowing forming, he threw the letter into the toilet and flushed it down. He watched as the stream struggled to fold the paper into the small opening. Then he watched the last physical piece of Thomas he had left get flushed down a toilet.


	7. Chapter 7

Damon returned to his dorm later and sat on his bed. He didn't care if he was missing any classes. That didn't seem important. He wasn't sure what to do, in fact, he hated just sitting there. He felt useless like there wasn't anything he could to fix the situation. Finally, he stood up and pulled out a piece of paper. He took a deep breath and wrote. It didn't take long for the message to get onto the paper.

Thomas,  
What's the plan?  
Damon

He didn't know if he should write more. Well, Thomas barely wrote anything to him, so why should he write anything more. He pulled out an envelope, a stamp, and put the letter in the school's mailbox. Then he left to get to Physics.

Damon couldn't concentrate in the class. He had a plan but he knew it was wrong. That there was no way that it would fix things. But he needed to see if Damon has the same idea. He worried about what they might tell him at the hospital. He knew that they could change him. Thomas acted as though it was no big deal, but Damon knew it was. Therapy changes people, and the last thing Damon wanted was for Thomas to change.

Damon made his way to his dorm at the end of the day. Mr. Beller caught up to him to ask why he missed English, and Damon lied to tell him he felt sick but then felt well enough to return to this next class. He wasn't sure that Mr. Beller actually believed him, but he didn't care enough. All he wanted was Thomas's reply.

It took a few days. Finally, on a rainy Thursday evening, a letter was brought to Damon. He was about to rip it open as soon as he got hold of it, but he knew that was a dangerous move. It's not that anyone cares enough about him to want to know, but it wasn't worth the risk. He went into the corridor bathroom and locked himself in a stall before opening it.

He nearly tore the letter trying to get to it:

Damon,  
This place is ridiculous, I can't wait to get out. I'm not sure what you meant by plan? What's your plan? Please write back it's the only thing I can look forward to..  
Thomas

Damon felt relief but also fear. Clearly, Thomas hadn't been infected yet, since he thought the place was ridiculous. But still, he didn't get what he meant. So it was time to be blunt. On the same piece of paper, Damon wrote a reply:

Thomas,  
I mean getting you out. Not normally, like you're supposed to. I mean running away. They're gonna find out about you, and they'll propbably find out about me. People like us aren't welcome in society. People who think about death or who try to kill themselves or who don't talk to others- we're freaks, Thomas. You have to accept that. I hope you understand, but you can't stay there. They'll try to weed that out of you- and it'll make you insane. Trust me, I know what I'm saying. Write back ASAP.  
Damon

It was a blunt letter, but how else, was he going to get the message across? There wasn't much time, and things had to happen.  
Damon mailed the letter and returned to his room to listen to music as loud as his headphones could go. He felt regret the entire night, as though he should've written something different. 

\---

It took Thomas five days to reply. To Damon, that was too long. But, when he did get the letter, he couldn't help but feel the excitement. He ripped it open while lying on his bed.

Damon,  
Sorry it took so long to reply. But you're right, this place is a killer. I can't stay here. There's something wrong with both of us, but I can't let them try to fix me because they'll make it worse. It's already happened- two days ago I attacked a therapist during our session- I can't do this anymore. So I devised a plan:  
Basically, at night, everything is locked and extremely secure. There's no way out, my window has bars on it. But, during the day, there are many visitors. I think I can sneak out if I dress as a regular person. I know where they hold our regular clothes- I'll just take someone's else things and walk out. I know this is very risky, but it's the only thing I got. Write back if you agree or disagree. Our general plan is December 15th, at 3 p.m.  
Thomas

Damon almost jumped up in rejoice. Finally. He gets it. Damon was afraid that his last letter was a risk, that it certainly meant that they would no longer be friends. But, all was good. For the first time in a long time, all was good.


	8. Chapter 8

December 15, 12:00 p.m.

Damon sat in Spanish with his leg nervously tapping on the ground. It was only a matter of time before he would leave this school forever. Something inside of him made him want to rethink his decisions. He thought perhaps he shouldn't do it. Perhaps it was too much to risk. But what exactly was at risk? It's not like he loved his family or anything. He's wanted this for so long, and his decision was clear- he was getting out.

1:00 p.m.

Damon had a backpack strapped to his back, was wearing a thick winter jacket with jeans and his favorite pair of sneakers. It was finally time. He walked across the parking lot and made it to the red Volkswagen GTI. The car wasn't his- he wasn't quite sure who's it was exactly. He had stolen the keys during study hall; it was perhaps one of these easiest stunts he had pulled off.

The winter wind was biting at his nose and ears, but soon he was inside the car and on his way. The hospital was an hour and a half away. It felt like forever but also like no time at all for Damon. He was pulled up under the shade of a tree at the parking lot in no time. 

At first he didn't recognize him. But then it was clear. Thomas was thin as ever, and his red hair had grown shaggy around him. Orange roots covered the dark red part making his hair look like a flame. But Damon only saw this once he got in the car, because his disguise was impressive. He had sunglasses and a hat on; a classic. But he had managed to hide his hair under the hat, and it was effective. Damon couldn't believe it. He knew that Thomas was capable of many things, but something like this was major. He had just broken out of a mental facility and made it look easy!

Damon wanted to slam the gas pedal, but he resisted in fear that they authorities might already be after them. 

"So where exactly are we going?" asked Thomas, ruffling his hair. The question flew over Damon as he stared at Thomas. He couldn't belivie that this was happening. "Damon?" This time he payed attention. 

"Well, the problem is I haven't really... really thought that far ahead..."

"Whatever, I expected that." replied Thomas

"What... what do you mean?" asked Damon, coming out of his trance and suddenly getting defensive.

"Chill, I mean I got us a place." 

Reflied filled Damon. For a minute he feared the entire plan might've turned around. It seemed as though Thomas was always a step ahead of him, a trait Damon found so admirable...

"Turn left here!" yelled Thomas as Damon slammed the brakes and they hit 40 mph to 10 in a split second.  
"Sorry" said Damon, turning to face Thomas.

"Where are we going anyway..?" he asked.

"You'll see, it's great." answered Thomas.  
Yet another thing Damon so admired about Thomas... his mysterious side. An enigma that he wouldn't be able to live without.

\---

The only problem was that the enigma took a long time to unveil itself. They drove for 3 hours and finally reached their destination. 

"Where are we?" asked Damon, stepping out of the car into what seemed like the middle of the woods.

"Our new home." replied Thomas, walking over to what seemed like the entrance to a basement. However, there was no house. Just two metal doors facing the ground. He pulled it open, and a loud creak echoed through the empty woods. 

"What-"  
"Just follow me." said Thomas before Damon could form another sentence.

Damon entered the room and was left speechless. It appeared to be a simple basement at first glance, but soon he began spotting all sorts of things- old buckets, planks, and other things all organized into furniture. A few mattresses were spread across one corner of the room. A musty smell filled the room, although the breeze coming in from the doors was already riding the room of its ancient dust. Thomas spread out his arms as a proud business showing off a new project. He turned to Damon.

"What do you think?" asked Thomas. Damon stayed quiet. He didn't know what to think. The place was amazing- so free of other people and so unique. Yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of regret and perhaps guilt rooted deep inside him. He simply kept his mouth open.

"This used to be me and my friend's hangout spot. For whenever we felt... troubled. Good thing is, nobody knows about it, except those friends. But, not to worry, since they're dead."

The once warm breeze entering the room had turned frigid.

"Thomas..."  
"No it's okay, that was a long time ago" Thomas looked him deep in the eyes, "and besides now I have you."

After about twenty minutes of exploring the room and the perimeter, Damon went to get his backpack and the few other belongings he threw into the car at the last minute. 

"Thomas... I didn't bring a lot. There's only enough food for... I'd say... three days?" said Damon, looking up to Thomas.  
"Not to worry, we'll eat what we've got and figured it out in three days time." Despite this obvious concern, Thomas made it all seem better.

\---

"I still can't believe we've done this." said Damon after they reorganized the furniture and sorted the room out. Outside, the sky had turned a deep purple and the doors to the basement were closed and locked tight. They huddled around a single candle that lit the room. 

"You guys were pretty prepared though, gotta give you credit." said Damon, gesturing to the candle. Thomas chuckled.

"Yeah well, we had to keep ourselves warm in the dead of winter. And it provides light. Really great, a simple candle is." said Thomas, placing his hands over the small fire to get what little warmth it provided.

"And yeah... I can't believe this actually worked either." said Thomas, a small smirk on his face as he looked into Damon's eyes.  
"I mean... I really thought I'd lose you. If they had found that you were escaping, and that you were escaping with me, I don't think we'd ever see each other again. Especially if they found out about the stolen car. People make such a big deal out of everything-"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, the 'bad influences' they talk about. My therapist told me. All about 'staying away from people who make you feel certain ways'. But she doesn't understand. What if... what if I want to be with the people that make me feel certain ways."

At this point, Thomas was inching closer to Damon as they sat around the candle. Damon could feel his heart beat faster. 

"What if I want to be with you? You're the only one, Damon. I've known so many. God, I've known so many people, so many free birds, whose wings have been chopped off." 

Damon considered that a weird phrase but went with it anyway. To him, anything Thomas said was poetry.

"You're the only free bird that still flies." said Thomas, this time, his face bare centimeters away from Damon's, his voice a slight whisper barely carried through the small distance from his lips to his ears.

Then it happened. Thomas leaned in and his lips met Damon's. Damon felt the blood rushing to his ears, his cheeks, even what felt like his mouth.  
Damon felt a hand on his chest, cold as an ice cube, contrasting with his warm skin. It was a numbing sensation, one that Damon couldn't get enough of. He wrapped his arm around Thomas' neck, and they continued, kissing until they couldn't breathe.

Not long after, Thomas had a grip of the hem of Damon's shirt and in one fluid motion, pulled it off. The move was so graceful that Damon feared whatever he attempted would not be as impressive. Nevertheless, he soon began unbuttoning Thomas's stolen shirt. 

"So cute... worrying about the buttons." said Thomas as he ripped open the shirt, the little white buttons scattering on the ground like snowflakes.

The small mattress was able to hold both the boys as they continued in the cold, dark room. The room's temperature itself rose, and neither of them feared to freeze in their sleep anymore. Soon, Damon was fast asleep, his head resting on Thomas' bare chest, and Thomas's arm was holding Damon's hand. They fell asleep, wrapped in one blanket, on one mattress, in one room, somewhere in the middle of the woods, where they were the only ones.


	9. Chapter 9

The boys continued living in their new paradise for weeks. Eventually, they were able to gather food by building traps from whatever materials they found in the basement, and occasionally stealing from gas stations nearby. Food was somewhat scarce, but they managed to survive. The winter packed on a cold wave, but that was no longer a problem. At some point the car was going to run out of gas, so Damon set a brick on the acceleration and the car drove off a cliff. It seemed as though at that moment, they officially cut off all ties from civilization, and the regret that had settled in Damon some time ago seemed to evaporate into the forest around him.

Damon was setting up a new dinner table from a few planks and bricks when Thomas came over to him. 

"You do know this is all I ever dreamed of... being alone with someone who understands, in a place where nobody will ever bother us."  
"I know, you've said that a million times already," said Damon, standing up to give Thomas a short but passionate kiss to the lips.

Then there was a bang. And then another bang. The two pairs of eyes made their way to the basement doors which had sheltered them so well for the past three weeks.  
"Open up!" "We know you're in there!" "We'll have to use force if you don't open it NOW!"

Thomas saw the tears fill Damon's eyes. He grabbed his arm and ran over to where an old cabinet stood. With mammoth force, he pushed it open to reveal a tiny hole that looked like it had been dug out by hand.  
"Quick! Hurry and be quiet!" said Thomas in a loud whisper.

Damon didn't hesitate. he crawled through the cramped space as fast as possible. Behind him, he heard Thomas throwing a few planks, blankets, and whatever else to cover the hole. It wouldn't have looked suspicious, the room was a mess anyways. At least Damon really hoped it wouldn't have looked suspicious. Finally, after several minutes in the hot, cramped environment, Damon smelled fresh forest air. He crawled out and saw that he was near a tree. He turned around and grabbed Thomas by the arms and pulled him out. Then, hand in hand, the ran through the woods.

"Not today, they can't take you," said Thomas in an exhausted yet aggressive whisper. They ran as fast as either of them had before. Nevertheless, the sound they finally most dreaded suddenly filled the air.   
"We can see you! Stop! STOP!"

Unfortunately for the officers, saying stop was not enough. They continued running, each of them praying that a miracle would save them. Clearly, there was no hope. Then Damon felt Thomas' hand rip out from his. He held on so hard he thought for sure he had broken Thomas's wrist when it was ripped out from him.

"No! NO! LET GO OF HIM! GET OFF ME! Just LEAVE US ALONE! NO!" Damon kicked and flailed as much as he could, but he weak, nutrient-deprived body was no match for the seven or more police officers that gripped him from every limb. He saw Thomas being dragged away, clearly knocked out.

"PLEASE! Just let us go..." soon everything seemed to go blurry for Damon.

\---

"Theft of all sorts, from small groceries to an entire car. Running away from a mental institution and a school institution. The attack of a therapist. These are just the basics of what's happened here. Damon felt soft covers around him. At first, it was the sounds, a beeping of a machine. The deep voice of someone who was probably a police officer. The soft sobs of someone who was probably his mom. Then everything was bright. It finally came into focus, and all his guesses were right- a hospital. He lunged forward.

"Calm down!" yelled a nurse. Damon felt something cold and metal on his wrists. He was cuffed to the bed. He lied back down, realizing that there was no purpose in a fight.

"Please, just take a deep breath. Damon, do you know where you are?"   
"Hell" replied Damon, looking the police officer in the eye.

"Please, settle yourself. You are extremely sleep and food deprived. Nobody is here to hurt you." the nurse's soft voice angered Damon. They're all fakers. Of course, they were going to hurt him. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. 

"Now, we are going to keep you here for a few days... then..." she turned to the police officer.  
"You'll be coming with me," said the officer in a stone cold voice, "you've committed some serious crimes, kid."

"We'll give you a few minutes with your parents now." said the nurse, walking out with the police officer right next to her. 

"Oh Damon!" a familiar voice cried. He felt her arms around him, although it didn't feel right.   
"Damon, what happened?" said his father, staring him in the eyes. Damon broke the eye contact and, seemingly ignoring him, asked:  
"Where is he?"

"What? Who?" asked his mother, her voice at the verge of tears.  
"Oh, stop crying and just tell me where he is! Thomas! Thomas Newton!"

"Honey, your friend is okay, he's a few rooms down from here. Now if you could just-"  
"Take me to him." "Damon, just listen-" "Now."  
"No, Damon, you don't get to ask for anything right now." said his father's cold assertive voice. 

Damon didn't want to be here. He wanted all of this to disappear. He wanted to pack it all into a car and drive it off a cliff like he had done with his guilt. All he wanted right now was Thomas. He stood up, pushed his mother out of the way and ran towards the door, feeling all sorts of tubes and wires rip off his skins and attempt to trip him. The police officer had appeared immediately and he blanked out again.

\---

Two weeks later, and Damon was preparing to leave the room which he had rotted in. The police officer's firm grip on one shoulder, and his suitcase in his other, he walked out of the room and was being brought out the front doors. All he could think about once he got outside was the birds that hurried away into the sky as he and the police officer crossed the parking lot.

The juvenile detention center was even worse than Damon had imagined on his car ride. The whole building was surrounded by a tall fence.   
An office greeted him and the officer as he walked in. There, stood his mother and father. His mother hugged him one last time before he was brought in. 

"It will be okay, this is for the best. We'll get past this, okay? I love you." She hugged him and more tears fled down her cheeks. Damon wanted to laugh but decided against is with the mean police officer eyeing him like a hawk. 

The room was cold, the walls surrounded by impenetrable cement. Everything was gray except the bright orange suit with the words 'INMATE' printed across it in a serious font. Damon stared down at his laceless black shoes, and felt tears forming, but then decided to hold them back. Nothing could get worse at this moment.

\---

Lunchtime rolled around and a police officer yelled something about getting out. As he walked pass Damon's cell, he said something along the lines of 'welcome to hell, kid", but Damon ignored him. He walked out and followed the large orange crowd to a room where people separated themselves- some to fold clothes, others preparing to do community service. Damon aimlessly walked around until a short, plump man caught up to him.   
"You are Damon, correct?"  
"Yes", he replied, his eyes not focusing on the man but on the bright red he thought he had just seen.  
"You're washing dishes today. Go on, take the hall to the right-" but the man's words seemed to fade away.

It must've been him, who else had red hair like that. He walked towards, like a trance, through the crowd, his eyes focused on the one spot.  
"Damon! Listen when I'm talking to you!" came the officer's voice again.  
"Yes, sorry sir. I thought... I thought.... nevermind." Damon walked away hastily from the man, down the hall, to the right.

But when he got there, everything got better. Because the first thing he saw when he entered was the bright red hair. It seemed impossible.  
"THOMAS!" he yelled, his voice rising above all the commotion of the busy kitchen.  
The boy turned around. And for the first time in weeks, Damon felt happy. He ran towards him nearly as fast as he did that one day in the woods and hugged him. Thomas dropped whatever dish he was holding and gripped Damon as hard as he could. 

"Stop frolicking! Get back to work you two!" yelled a raspy voice. Damon and Thomas giggled.   
"I can't believe it's you," whispered Thomas to Damon as he leaned down to pick up the broken bits of a mug.

"Nice move, faggot. Keep up this work and I'll beat you up myself." In front of them stood a six foot something boy with a beard and so many muscles they seemed to swallow him. 

"That's about as nice as they get here," said Thomas as he scrubbed a plate. Damon had begun to work on his batch of dishes as well, listening to Thomas speak. Apparently, Thomas had already been here a week. Why he had gotten here earlier was something Damon didn't understand. In fact, there wasn't much he understood, but he didn't complain. He was finally with Thomas again, and that's all he ever wanted.

\---

It would never again be as good as it was in the basement those few weeks. But life was able to move on. Damon and Thomas spent as much time together as they could. And although they weren't allowed to kiss or really spend any time to themselves, it was okay. Okay enough that both of them still smiled, and that both of them dreamed of getting back to the woods.


	10. Chapter 10

December 15, 12:00 p.m.

Damon sat in Spanish with his leg nervously tapping on the ground. It was only a matter of time  
before he would leave this school forever. Something inside of him made him want to rethink his  
decisions. He thought perhaps he shouldn't do it. Perhaps it was too much to risk. But what  
exactly was at risk? It's not like he loved his family or anything. He's wanted this for so long, and  
his decision was clear- he was getting out.

1:00 p.m.  
Damon had a backpack strapped to his back, was wearing a thick winter jacket with jeans and his  
favorite pair of sneakers. It was finally time. He walked across the parking lot and made it to the  
red Volkswagen GTI. The car wasn't his- he wasn't quite sure who's it was exactly. He had stolen  
the keys during study hall; it was perhaps one of these easiest stunts he had pulled off.

The winter wind was biting at his nose and ears, but soon he was inside the car and on his way.  
The hospital was an hour and a half away. It felt like forever but also like no time at all for  
Damon. He was pulled up under the shade of a tree at the parking lot in no time.

At first he didn't recognize him. But then it was clear. Thomas was thin as ever, and his red hair  
had grown shaggy around him. Orange roots covered the dark red part making his hair look like a  
flame. But Damon only saw this once he got in the car, because his disguise was impressive. He  
had sunglasses and a hat on; a classic. But he had managed to hide his hair under the hat, and it  
was effective. 

Damon couldn't believe it. He knew that Thomas was capable of many things, but  
something like this was major. He had just broken out of a mental facility and made it look easy!  
Damon wanted to slam the gas pedal, but he resisted in fear that they authorities might already be  
after them.

"So where exactly are we going?" asked Thomas, ruffling his hair. The question flew over  
Damon as he stared at Thomas. He couldn't belivie that this was happening. "Damon?" This time  
he payed attention.

"Well, the problem is I haven't really... really thought that far ahead..."  
"Whatever, I expected that." replied Thomas.

"What... what do you mean?" asked Damon, coming out of his trance and suddenly getting  
defensive.

"Chill, I mean I got us a place."  
Relief filled Damon. For a minute he feared the entire plan might've turned around. It seemed as  
though Thomas was always a step ahead of him, a trait Damon found so admirable...

"Turn left here!" yelled Thomas as Damon slammed the brakes and they hit 40 mph to 10 in a  
split second.

"Sorry" said Damon, turning to face Thomas.  
"Where are we going anyway..?" he asked.

"You'll see, it's great." answered Thomas.

Yet another thing Damon so admired about Thomas... his mysterious side. An enigma that he  
wouldn't be able to live without.

\---

The only problem was that the enigma took a long time to unveil itself. They drove for 3 hours  
and finally reached their destination.

"Where are we?" asked Damon, stepping out of the car into what seemed like the middle of the  
woods.

"Our new home." replied Thomas, walking over to what seemed like the entrance to a basement.  
However, there was no house. Just two metal doors facing the ground. He pulled it open, and a  
loud creak echoed through the empty woods.

"What-"  
"Just follow me." said Thomas before Damon could form another sentence.

Damon entered the room and was left speechless. It appeared to be a simple basement at first  
glance, but soon he began spotting all sorts of things- old buckets, planks, and other things all  
organized into furniture. A few mattresses were spread across one corner of the room. A musty  
smell filled the room, although the breeze coming in from the doors was already riding the room of  
its ancient dust. Thomas spread out his arms as a proud business showing off a new project. He  
turned to Damon.

"What do you think?" asked Thomas. Damon stayed quiet. He didn't know what to think. The  
place was amazing- so free of other people and so unique. Yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of  
regret and perhaps guilt rooted deep inside him. He simply kept his mouth open.

"This used to be me and my friend's hangout spot. For whenever we felt... troubled. Good thing  
is, nobody knows about it, except those friends. But, not to worry, since they're dead."  
The once warm breeze entering the room had turned frigid.

"Thomas..."  
"No it's okay, that was a long time ago" Thomas looked him deep in the eyes, "and besides now I  
have you."

After about twenty minutes of exploring the room and the perimeter, Damon went to get his  
backpack and the few other belongings he threw into the car at the last minute.

"Thomas... I didn't bring a lot. There's only enough food for... I'd say... three days?" said Damon,  
looking up to Thomas.

"Not to worry, we'll eat what we've got and figured it out in three days time." Despite this obvious  
concern, Thomas made it all seem better.

\---

"I still can't believe we've done this." said Damon after they reorganized the furniture and sorted  
the room out. Outside, the sky had turned a deep purple and the doors to the basement were closed  
and locked tight. They huddled around a single candle that lit the room.

"You guys were pretty prepared though, gotta give you credit." said Damon, gesturing to the  
candle. Thomas chuckled.

"Yeah well, we had to keep ourselves warm in the dead of winter. And it provides light. Really  
great, a simple candle is." said Thomas, placing his hands over the small fire to get what little  
warmth it provided.

"And yeah... I can't believe this actually worked either." said Thomas, a small smirk on his face as  
he looked into Damon's eyes.

"I mean... I really thought I'd lose you. If they had found that you were escaping, and that you  
were escaping with me, I don't think we'd ever see each other again. Especially if they found out  
about the stolen car. People make such a big deal out of everything-"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, the 'bad influences' they talk about. My therapist told me. All  
about 'staying away from people who make you feel certain ways'. But she doesn't understand.  
What if... what if I want to be with the people that make me feel certain ways."

At this point, Thomas was inching closer to Damon as they sat around the candle. Damon could  
feel his heart beat faster.

"What if I want to be with you? You're the only one, Damon. I've known so many. God, I've  
known so many people, so many free birds, whose wings have been chopped off."  
Damon considered that a weird phrase but went with it anyway. To him, anything Thomas said  
was poetry.

"You're the only free bird that still flies." said Thomas, this time, his face bare centimeters away  
from Damon's, his voice a slight whisper barely carried through the small distance from his lips to  
his ears.

Then it happened. Thomas leaned in and his lips met Damon's. Damon felt the blood rushing to  
his ears, his cheeks, even what felt like his mouth.

Damon felt a hand on his chest, cold as an ice cube, contrasting with his warm skin. It was a  
numbing sensation, one that Damon couldn't get enough of. He wrapped his arm around Thomas'  
neck, and they continued, kissing until they couldn't breathe.

Not long after, Thomas had a grip of the hem of Damon's shirt and in one fluid motion, pulled it  
off. The move was so graceful that Damon feared whatever he attempted would not be as  
impressive. Nevertheless, he soon began unbuttoning Thomas's stolen shirt.

"So cute... worrying about the buttons." said Thomas as he ripped open the shirt, the little white  
buttons scattering on the ground like snowflakes.

The small mattress was able to hold both the boys as they continued in the cold, dark room. The  
room's temperature itself rose, and neither of them feared to freeze in their sleep anymore. Soon,  
Damon was fast asleep, his head resting on Thomas' bare chest, and Thomas's arm was holding  
Damon's hand. They fell asleep, wrapped in one blanket, on one mattress, in one room,  
somewhere in the middle of the woods, where they were the only ones.


	11. Chapter 11

The boys continued living in their new paradise for weeks. Eventually, they were able to gather  
food by building traps from whatever materials they found in the basement, and occasionally  
stealing from gas stations nearby. Food was somewhat scarce, but they managed to survive. The  
winter packed on a cold wave, but that was no longer a problem. At some point the car was going  
to run out of gas, so Damon set a brick on the acceleration and the car drove off a cliff. It seemed  
as though at that moment, they officially cut off all ties from civilization, and the regret that had  
settled in Damon some time ago seemed to evaporate into the forest around him.  
Damon was setting up a new dinner table from a few planks and bricks when Thomas came over  
to him.

"You do know this is all I ever dreamed of... being alone with someone who understands, in a  
place where nobody will ever bother us."

"I know, you've said that a million times already," said Damon, standing up to give Thomas a  
short but passionate kiss to the lips.

Then there was a bang. And then another bang. The two pairs of eyes made their way to the  
basement doors which had sheltered them so well for the past three weeks.  
"Open up!" "We know you're in there!" "We'll have to use force if you don't open it NOW!"  
Thomas saw the tears fill Damon's eyes. He grabbed his arm and ran over to where an old cabinet  
stood. With mammoth force, he pushed it open to reveal a tiny hole that looked like it had been  
dug out by hand.

"Quick! Hurry and be quiet!" said Thomas in a loud whisper.

Damon didn't hesitate. he crawled through the cramped space as fast as possible. Behind him, he  
heard Thomas throwing a few planks, blankets, and whatever else to cover the hole. It wouldn't  
have looked suspicious, the room was a mess anyways. At least Damon really hoped it wouldn't  
have looked suspicious. Finally, after several minutes in the hot, cramped environment, Damon  
smelled fresh forest air. He crawled out and saw that he was near a tree. He turned around and  
grabbed Thomas by the arms and pulled him out. Then, hand in hand, the ran through the woods.

"Not today, they can't take you," said Thomas in an exhausted yet aggressive whisper. They ran  
as fast as either of them had before. Nevertheless, the sound they finally most dreaded suddenly  
filled the air.

"We can see you! Stop! STOP!"  
Unfortunately for the officers, saying stop was not enough. They continued running, each of them  
praying that a miracle would save them. Clearly, there was no hope. Then Damon felt Thomas'  
hand rip out from his. He held on so hard he thought for sure he had broken Thomas's wrist when  
it was ripped out from him.

"No! NO! LET GO OF HIM! GET OFF ME! Just LEAVE US ALONE! NO!" Damon kicked  
and flailed as much as he could, but he weak, nutrient-deprived body was no match for the seven  
or more police officers that gripped him from every limb. He saw Thomas being dragged away,  
clearly knocked out.

"PLEASE! Just let us go..." soon everything seemed to go blurry for Damon.

\---

"Theft of all sorts, from small groceries to an entire car. Running away from a mental institution  
and a school institution. The attack of a therapist. These are just the basics of what's happened  
here."

Damon felt soft covers around him. At first, it was the sounds, a beeping of a machine. The  
deep voice of someone who was probably a police officer. The soft sobs of someone who was  
probably his mom. Then everything was bright. It finally came into focus, and all his guesses were  
right- a hospital. He lunged forward.

"Calm down!" yelled a nurse. Damon felt something cold and metal on his wrists. He was cuffed  
to the bed. He lied back down, realizing that there was no purpose in a fight.

"Please, just take a deep breath. Damon, do you know where you are?"  
"Hell" replied Damon, looking the police officer in the eye.

"Please, settle yourself. You are extremely sleep and food deprived. Nobody is here to hurt you."  
the nurse's soft voice angered Damon. They're all fakers. Of course, they were going to hurt him.  
Otherwise, he wouldn't be here.

"Now, we are going to keep you here for a few days... then..." she turned to the police officer.  
"You'll be coming with me," said the officer in a stone cold voice, "you've committed some  
serious crimes, kid."

"We'll give you a few minutes with your parents now." said the nurse, walking out with the police  
officer right next to her.

"Oh Damon!" a familiar voice cried. He felt her arms around him, although it didn't feel right.  
"Damon, what happened?" said his father, staring him in the eyes. Damon broke the eye contact  
and, seemingly ignoring him, asked:  
"Where is he?"  
"What? Who?" asked his mother, her voice at the verge of tears.  
"Oh, stop crying and just tell me where he is! Thomas! Thomas Newton!"  
"Honey, your friend is okay, he's a few rooms down from here. Now if you could just-"  
"Take me to him." "Damon, just listen-" "Now."

"No, Damon, you don't get to ask for anything right now." said his father's cold assertive voice.  
Damon didn't want to be here. He wanted all of this to disappear. He wanted to pack it all into a  
car and drive it off a cliff like he had done with his guilt. 

All he wanted right now was Thomas.  
He stood up, pushed his mother out of the way and ran towards the door, feeling all sorts of tubes  
and wires rip off his skins and attempt to trip him. The police officer had appeared immediately  
and he blanked out again.

\---

Two weeks later, and Damon was preparing to leave the room which he had rotted in. The police  
officer's firm grip on one shoulder, and his suitcase in his other, he walked out of the room and  
was being brought out the front doors. All he could think about once he got outside was the birds  
that hurried away into the sky as he and the police officer crossed the parking lot.

The juvenile detention center was even worse than Damon had imagined on his car ride. The  
whole building was surrounded by a tall fence.

An office greeted him and the officer as he walked in. There, stood his mother and father. His  
mother hugged him one last time before he was brought in.

"It will be okay, this is for the best. We'll get past this, okay? I love you." She hugged him and  
more tears fled down her cheeks. Damon wanted to laugh but decided against is with the mean  
police officer eyeing him like a hawk.

The room was cold, the walls surrounded by impenetrable cement. Everything was gray except  
the bright orange suit with the words 'INMATE' printed across it in a serious font. Damon stared  
down at his laceless black shoes, and felt tears forming, but then decided to hold them back.  
Nothing could get worse at this moment.

\---

Lunchtime rolled around and a police officer yelled something about getting out. As he walked  
pass Damon's cell, he said something along the lines of 'welcome to hell, kid", but Damon ignored  
him. He walked out and followed the large orange crowd to a room where people separated  
themselves- some to fold clothes, others preparing to do community service. Damon aimlessly  
walked around until a short, plump man caught up to him.

"You are Damon, correct?"  
"Yes", he replied, his eyes not focusing on the man but on the bright red he thought he had just  
seen.

"You're washing dishes today. Go on, take the hall to the right-" but the man's words seemed to  
fade away.

It must've been him, who else had red hair like that. He walked towards, like a trance, through the  
crowd, his eyes focused on the one spot.

"Damon! Listen when I'm talking to you!" came the officer's voice again.  
"Yes, sorry sir. I thought... I thought.... nevermind." Damon walked away hastily from the man,  
down the hall, to the right.

But when he got there, everything got better. Because the first thing he saw when he entered was  
the bright red hair. It seemed impossible.

"THOMAS!" he yelled, his voice rising above all the commotion of the busy kitchen.  
The boy turned around. And for the first time in weeks, Damon felt happy. He ran towards him  
nearly as fast as he did that one day in the woods and hugged him. Thomas dropped whatever  
dish he was holding and gripped Damon as hard as he could.

"Stop frolicking! Get back to work you two!" yelled a raspy voice. Damon and Thomas giggled.  
"I can't believe it's you," whispered Thomas to Damon as he leaned down to pick up the broken  
bits of a mug.

"Nice move, faggot. Keep up this work and I'll beat you up myself." In front of them stood a six  
foot something boy with a beard and so many muscles they seemed to swallow him.  
"That's about as nice as they get here," said Thomas as he scrubbed a plate. Damon had begun to  
work on his batch of dishes as well, listening to Thomas speak. Apparently, Thomas had already  
been here a week. Why he had gotten here earlier was something Damon didn't understand. In  
fact, there wasn't much he understood, but he didn't complain. He was finally with Thomas again,  
and that's all he ever wanted.

\---

It would never again be as good as it was in the basement those few weeks. But life was able to  
move on. Damon and Thomas spent as much time together as they could. And although they  
weren't allowed to kiss or really spend any time to themselves, it was okay. Okay enough that  
both of them still smiled, and that both of them dreamed of getting back to the woods.


End file.
